


Sixty-Four

by dianasilverman



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianasilverman/pseuds/dianasilverman
Summary: Buffy and Spike spend a quiet morning together to celebrate her birthday.





	Sixty-Four

And, if you say the word, I could stay with you.  
The Beatles, "When I'm Sixty-Four".

It took Spike a moment to orient himself when he jolted awake. He had been caught in a nightmare full of endless white tile hallways and ominous chanting, so finding himself safe in bed came as a surprise. The fog that had drifted in from the ocean and clung to their tiny house had finally lifted. Through the specially tinted windows, he could see a glorious California day outside; the rambling slopes down to the beach and the breaking waves were all bathed in sunshine. He groaned. They were not supposed to have slept this long. The woman snoring fitfully next to him would be furious.

"Buffy", he tried cautiously.

She didn't so much as stir. In sleep, she looked incredibly peaceful, her many burdens temporarily lifted. The sunlight gilded her bright hair and the tips of her eyelashes until they glowed. The grey streaks at her temples did nothing to diminish her beauty. For the first time, he noticed the significance of the date on the wall panel. It reminded him that there were only so many mornings like this one left.

"Time to wake up."

"Mmmhmm", she mumbled in response.

"C'mon, love, its past nine."

"Mmhmm." He could tell she was only pretending to still be asleep.

"Happy birthday, Buffy."

With that, she abruptly sat bolt upright, elbowing him in the process.

"How long was I asleep?", she demanded, more harshly than he thought necessary.

"You slept through yesterday."

She shoved him grumpily.

“Why did you let me sleep so late? It wasn’t supposed to already be tomorrow.”

“You were tired. Jet lag and all”, he reminded, kissing her scowl until it softened. She hummed contentedly. Then her eyes rested on her axe, resting by their bedroom door next to a scuffed pair of black combat boots. She sighed heavily.

“What’s wrong, love?”.

"My birthdays are nearly always apocalyptic, you know that."

"Not always. Remember thirty-five? The gondola?". She smiled wanly at the memory, but he could see there was more. He waited for her to continue.

“Its just… if I’m not careful, if I let my guard down, the girls will never get to do any of this.” She gestured vaguely around her.

“Cuddle with their favorite vampire?”.

“You know what I mean. Have birthdays, stay in bed. Willow says there are signs, portents. Dark magics rising from below.” As she spoke, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

“She’s becoming Giles in her old age”, he remarked. Buffy laughed wistfully. Enough time had passed now that they could remember her Watcher without grief.

“Spike?”.

“Yeah?”.

“D’ya think the brewing evil could wait a couple of hours?”.

“The good fight will still be there after breakfast”, he assented, feathering kisses along her many scars.

“I wasn’t thinking about breakfast”, she quipped, wrapping her legs around him and expertly flipping him onto his back. His arms snaked around her backside, rocking her hips against him. When she leaned down to kiss him, he could feel the curve of a wicked smile.

By the time they emerged into the kitchen, the midday sun was sparkling on the ocean. Buffy, now bow legged and considerably more relaxed, was freshly showered and dressed for an important strategy meeting later that night. Her favorite vampire was stretching in a way that could only be described as catlike, and preparing the last few details for a red eye to Helsinki. There were trolls there behaving far too strategically, and an outside influence was suspected.

"Waffles, A positive, or both?", Buffy asked, rifling through the freezer.

"Both, obviously", he responded, leaning over her shoulder to find the bag in the fridge. Her soft sweater brushed him, and he reflected that he was glad she still dressed to lead her army in things that were fuzzy and sparkly. It suited her.

"You're disgusting", she admonished lovingly.

"Sod off." He tugged at a strand of her hair.

"Is that from the hospital?", she glared pointedly at the bag as she popped waffles in the toaster oven.

"At least I'm not eating what looks like an entire package of waffles for breakfast."

"You know, Faith was right about slaying. I feel like I haven't eaten in days." The other half of the old adage had proven itself true that morning. He was still foggy with residual bliss.

"There's another where that came from. I bought groceries while you were away."

"I love you", she said with feeling, and he loved how she could say it casually now. Then her eyebrows knitted skeptically.

"Where'd you get the money?"

"Saved this bloke from a demon. So grateful he gave me his wallet."

"Bollocks." The inherited Briticism was amusing in her accent.

"It's halfway true, at least." Spike had saved the man, but the wallet hadn't been given willingly.

The toaster chirpily informed them that their food was ready. At their worn kitchen table, plans were made for the Good Fight in between requests to pass the syrup. They made a good team, Spike's gentle irreverence lightening the weight of Buffy's duty, and her seriousness grounding him in purpose for the future.

"Stupid thing never listens to me when I tell it what to do. I think its possessed", she complained, poking at a singed waffle glumly.

"Should we investigate? I know a guy who knows an exorcist."

"What's so wrong with buttons and plugs?", she asked. He snorted.

"What?", she demanded.

"You're getting old. Complaining about modern technology and all. Next thing we know, you'll be wearing compression socks and drinking prune juice."

"That's funny, coming from a one hundred sixty five year old."

"Ouch. You know I don't like it when people give away my age".

"Immortality must be such a struggle."

"These last few years-" he rested his leg against her slim ankle "-its been less so."

"You have to keep going, you know. The world will still need you." He didn't have to ask when she was talking about. The years were slipping by them quickly these days, counting down to the morning when he would have to wake up without her. This reality made their quiet moments together even more precious.

He took one of her hands in both of his, all joking long gone. When he met her eyes, they were green and fathomless.

"I promise."

"Good."

The vow was more binding than any exchange of rings. Their shared purpose had kept them together even through their bad times. This cause was theirs together now, and would be his when she was gone.

It was her turn to lift them out of melancholy. She offered him another waffle, eyes twinkling again.

"I just never imagined this. I was always so sure that I wouldn't make it this far that making it to this birthday feels...", she trailed off.

"Surreal?', he volunteered.

"Like a gift", she explained.

He nodded in complete understanding. This was what he had always wanted, even if he'd never realized it. He'd never thought a longing like it could be fulfilled, but here he was. Outside, the waves danced under the dazzling sunshine. Far out over the Pacific, the sky was deep blue, hinting at the return of the fog. Monsters lurked in the ocean's depths, as they did in all the world's shadows. There were hard days ahead of them both, and inevitably, they would have to face the darkness alone. Cold winds were already beating at the house's clapboard walls. But, for today, and for other days, they were together, united by waffles, heroism, and love.

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the end of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel The Series, not the comics.


End file.
